Know Joy
by Val-Creative
Summary: (Season 6, Episode 7.) While dodging Josephine in her own head, Clarke ends up finding the two people she thinks about most.


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Josephine couldn't be far behind her.

Clarke makes a sharp, right turn, entering another set of iron-welded doors materializing for her.

She comes to a standstill in the middle of racing in, awestruck, gaping at the throne room of Polis. Brightly lit windows. Tapestries made of fur and sheer, purple material. Dirt-flecked floors. A man crouches on the stair-dais leading up to the Commander's throne, gazing up at it purposefully and broodingly, drumming his fingers against his outer leg.

"Bellamy?" Clarke speaks up, bemused as he leaps up, grinning in her direction. Bellamy's expression softens.

"You made it," he says, short-winded from relief. His beard dark and scratchy pressing against Clarke's skin when Bellamy hugs her, tucking his chin into her shoulder. The warmth coming off him… _dizzying_. "Thought I'd be waiting here forever."

Clarke separates from him, glancing over his buckled, black and ratty clothing and frowning. It's all from Sanctum.

"Stop. This isn't real."

Bellamy chuckles, low and rumbling, his thumb swiping over the edge of Clarke's jaw. "Is really that what you wanna talk about?" he asks, humored. Impish. "How about 'I'm so glad I'm not dead, Bellamy'? Or 'I'm so glad _you're_ not dead, Bellamy'?"

Her stomach gives a gentle, knowing somersault and Clarke's pulse quickens.

"I need to go…" she insists, turning for a door. Any door. But instead, a woman with long, braided hair approaches and blocks the way, regal and upright. Lexa's hair-line and temples scrubbed clean of her war-paint. Dried blood caked over her sternum.

"Hello, _Klark_."

"No… …" Clarke's voice leaves her in a gasping, high sob. She shakes her head wildly, trembling so hard that Bellamy's hand steadies her lower back. Clarke's blue, tear-filled eyes squeezing shut. "Please… _please_, don't do this to me…"

"_Shhh_…" Lexa whispers, calmly wrapping one of her arms to her. Her lips quirking up slowly. Clarke feels Lexa's palm cradling the back of her skull, urging them to close the distance, touching their foreheads. She's so solid. Real. So, _so_ real. And she doesn't know what to do but to hiccup-sob against Lexa's neck. "It's alright. You're safe now."

It's all happening in Clarke's head. Tormenting her. Clarke rules her own mind-space and she somehow cannot get it _together_ long enough to… …

"Listen to me, Clarke," Bellamy interrupts firmly, drawing her attention. "You don't have to run away from this. We said we would find a home together. For all of us…" Clarke stares helplessly, between Lexa's searching, secretive look and Bellamy, tightly clutching onto Bellamy's hand rubbing consolingly to the top of her shoulder. "Don't you want that too…?"

"Bellamy…"

"_Ai laik kom yu_." Something deep, deep inside of Clarke feels like it's breaking apart, as Lexa's words fall over her. Full of admiration. "_Yu laik kom me gon hogeda ai sonraun_," Lexa murmurs, placing her mouth to Clarke's lips, over, over and over.

Clarke wants to kiss her back, releasing a quivery breath and feeling cool, harsh air on her flesh.

She stands between Lexa and Bellamy, naked as their sins, as their own warm, dizzying flesh. Bellamy's grime-smudged fingers wipe off her tears. She heard the word 'queer' described as wrong. Strange. Offensive. But it is _who_ she is… she loves both women and men… she _always_ will.

"_Beja nou bants… ai hod yu in_," she begs, shutting her eyes again when Lexa and Bellamy whisper Clarke's name in unison — Clarke feels herself going to her knees, panting against Bellamy's opening mouth, and then Lexa's front, bestowing spit-sticky kisses to one of her breasts. She chokes out deliriously when a moaning, perspiring Bellamy wrings a hand roughly to Clark's frail and pale neck. The blinding, heightened sensation nearly whites out her vision. Lexa observes her, smirking, no longer covered in her own nightblood, running her hands over Clarke's hips teasingly and along the insides of Clarke's thighs.

"Never."

They answer Clarke's pleas, like a reprieve, like a curse and a prayer-soaked omen.

And when she opens her eyes, Clarke kneels by herself, dressed in her prison clothes and sobbing, among her memory-drawings.

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_The 100 isn't mine. I know this is a fairly controversial ship to toy around with, but believe me, I wouldn't want it to be canon. I'm not gonna express my perference for what I actually want and I'm gonna leave this at,,,, I HOPE YALL ENJOY. ANY CURIOUS WANDERER OR THE PEOPLE WHO SHIP BELLARKE/CLEXA EQUALLY. No,,, this is not a threesome. Lexa is a lesbian and she does not want Bellamy who is a cisgendered man. You are looking more at a poly vee-relationship with Clarke as the focal point. _________________Okay so it is __30 Days of NSFW but LGBT+ Pride edition where every single day is a LGBT+ identity that a character embodies or a relationship does using the focus/perspective of the story. It's either gonna be canon or fanon! It is Day 24 which is "Queer" and YEAH CLARKE IS! SHE IS CANON BISEXUAL!  
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_Along with this from the 30 Day OTP Porn Challenge this is also Day 24 which is "breathplay" and this is a prompt table I'm using for June. _

_(If you enjoyed reading this, I would love to hear any comment/thought you had! Also are you LGBT+ too? How are you celebrating Pride Month this year?)_


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